


Diggin' My Grave (to get a reaction)

by OverlyObsessed223



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fake Character Death, No shame, Past Relationship(s), Wakes & Funerals, another one shot im expanding on - Freeform, because its never enough and no satisfaction, except for those last two tags - Freeform, im pretty ashamed of those ngl, ive got no shame - Freeform, sorry about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23487037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverlyObsessed223/pseuds/OverlyObsessed223
Summary: It’s a terrible, horrible, awful idea, but in Luke's buzzed mind, it somehow seems like a good idea nonetheless.----Or, where Luke fakes his own death.Based on the No Shame music video.
Relationships: Calum Hood/Ashton Irwin, Luke Hemmings & Ashton Irwin, Luke Hemmings & Calum Hood, Michael Clifford & Luke Hemmings, past - Relationship
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44





	1. I Only Light Up When Cameras Are Flashin'

**Author's Note:**

> Aha so I have no idea what this is, but I got the idea after no being able to process how cute Luke is when he's watching his own funeral in the No Shame music video. This is the result.

The moment the idea pops into his brain, Luke knows it’s a bad one. 

In fact, it’s more than bad—it’s a terrible, horrible, awful idea. It’s an idea that is only based on lies and deception, and when it enters his head, at first he shoves it away, thinking there’s no way he could ever go through with such an idea. It’s an idea that’s only found in movies and tv, never in real life, and he’s not sure he’d even be able to pull it off. 

It’s a stormy night in the middle of July, and he’s sitting alone in his empty house. It seems the rain will keep on for a week or two, according to the weather forecast, and it seems more than fitting to him right now. Rain pours down his many windows, making him feel as if he’s in a glass box surrounded by water, cut off from the rest of the world. Maybe his house has been transported into the deep dark ocean—or maybe he’s just feeling very, very lonely. 

Luke glances down at the bottle of vodka in his hands that he’s now halfway finished with before taking another swig of it, closing his eyes as he swallows it, feeling the warmth of the alcohol moving through his blood. As the vodka starts to take over, he looks up again at the dark empty room and the birthday decorations hanging around the house. There’s not a lot of decorations, a modest amount, because he hadn’t planned a huge party for his twenty-third birthday, only inviting his three closest friends, because if he’s honest, they’re all he’s ever needed. 

Too bad none of them showed up. 

With a sigh, Luke stands up, the neck of the bottle hanging loosely in his hand as he makes his way around his house, beginning to pull all of the decorations down, taking a drink of vodka here and there as he does. 

He probably should have expected this. After all, it’s not the first time recently that he’d found himself ditched by the others. Like that one time when he’d gone to a local bar to play a couple of songs—nothing big or special, but important to him nonetheless. He’d invited the others to come and watch, and much like today, they were all busy. He remembers being up on that stage, excitement and nerves both pulsing through him as he scanned the crowd in front of him, hoping that at least _one_ of them would be there, and he also remembers the sinking feeling of disappointment when he failed to see any of them. 

He’d faked a smile and played through his set, but it just wasn’t the same. 

Truth is, this has been going on for years now, and honestly, he’s not sure why he’s still trying to keep them in his gravitational orbit when they’re all obviously wanting to move on. It’s hard, letting go of the friends he’s had since middle school, but maybe this is a sign that he should. If they don’t care about him anymore, why should he continue to put up decorations? Why should he even put in the effort anymore?

Luke yanks down a ribbon, letting it fall onto the floor, like all of the rest of the decorations. He’ll pick them up in the morning when he’s not as drunk as he is right now, because God knows he’ll just end up falling over. Then, once all the ribbons and balloons are successfully on the ground, he moves into the kitchen, putting away all the alcohol back into the cabinet where they belong. He’s just beginning to put all the snacks back into the pantry when his phone buzzes on the kitchen island, and he spins around fast, grabbing onto the pantry doorframe when he starts to feel dizzy. Once the buzz passes, he practically runs over to where his phone is, hoping deep down that it’s one of the boys texting him to, at the very least, apologize for not showing up. 

At least Ashton had texted him, half an hour after the party was supposed to start, telling him that he’d gotten a last-minute client and he wouldn’t be able to make it. _Happy birthday, mate,_ the text had read, and Luke figures it was better than nothing. Ashton had become a plastic surgeon, and nowadays he pours himself into his work, meaning that Luke hardly ever sees him anymore, but he understands that work is Ashton’s priority, and he would never try to take that away from him. However, he hadn’t heard anything from Calum or Michael, and he’s hoping that the notification could be one of them. 

He picks up the phone, only to see the notification is from Instagram, letting him know that both of them have new posts. For what feels like the one-hundredth time this night, his heart sinks, and he opens Instagram to see a post from Michael—it’s a bunch of pictures of him and his new “friends”, all getting shitfaced and going out on the town. He scrolls farther down and sees Calum has posted pictures of him and his wife on a date, smiling almost too big as they sit in a very fancy restaurant. 

The lightning flashes from outside, flooding the dark house with bright light, and in a fit of rage, Luke hurls the phone across the house, and it collides with a wall just as the thunder cracks and booms. He stands there, in his kitchen, breathing heavily, trying to get the anger and the sadness under control before he loses it completely. He takes another drink of vodka, gulping it down as one would with water, and he ignores the burn in the back of his throat. He puts the bottle down, leaning back on his counters as he looks at the pitifulness around him. 

He can’t pinpoint when exactly he lost the people who used to be like brothers to him. Maybe it was when Calum met the woman who is now his wife, spending all his money on fancy dates and cars and a big suburban house, raising her kids as his own as they all smile those too big smiles to cover up the fact that none of them are truly happy. Maybe it was when Ashton started working more, no longer having time for anyone but the people in his chair, or maybe it was when Michael started going out more, going to the crazier side of town, making friends that aren’t actually his friends, getting drunker and higher every night until they don’t even remember their own names. Or… maybe it was when Luke refused to move on like the rest of them did. 

As the heavens continue to pour down rain harder and harder, he wonders if any of them would even care if he died tomorrow. 

And maybe it’s the amount of vodka in his system, or maybe it’s the immense sadness he’s feeling, but he wonders if there’s a way he could die without actually dying, and see how his friends would react. 

He could fake his own death. 

Luke’s eyes go wide at the thought, but by now, it’s lodged in his brain—a terrible, horrible thought, and suddenly the wheels are turning, a plan slowly forming as he imagines the possible outcomes. The worst-case scenario is that they won’t bat an eye, and then Luke will know that they’re no longer his friends after all. And best-case scenario… 

He’s unable to stop the smile that’s slowly creeping onto his face as he stands in his hard kitchen, and his plan almost borders on evil, but he just can’t bring himself to call it off. 

* * *

Twenty minutes later, he’s sitting in his parked car, the headlights revealing a huge cliff about fifty yards away, the wipers furiously working to keep the windshield clear of rain. Down below the cliff is a river, which is most likely raging due to the storm, and Luke feels as if the planets are alining just so he can pull this off. The voice inside of his head that was telling him this is a terrible idea is now gone, squashed by the desire to feel wanted again—or, at least, to know how his friends truly feel about him. 

His foot, however, hovers on the accelerator, unable to fully commit to pressing down on it. His fingers tap nervously on the steering wheel. Once he does this, there’s no going back, and for a moment, he falters, not sure if he can bring himself to pull a stunt like this. This is, of course, a terrible idea. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket and the last strain of hope inside him prays for it to be anything good, anything to persuade him to back away from the cliff. 

It’s a notification from Candy Crush. 

A wave of emotion crashes over him, and he slides his phone back into his pocket before shifting the car gear into drive and slamming down on the accelerator, sending the car flying towards the edge of the cliff. Just before it goes over, Luke opens the door and falls out of the vehicle, rolling on the dirt and grass as he hears the car impact the water with a roaring splash. When he comes to a stop, he looks up at the tire tracks on the muddy cliff which are already getting covered up by the pouring rain, and though many parts of his body ache from the impact of hitting the ground, Luke stands up and slowly walks over to the edge of the cliff to see his car already yards down the river, submerged with water to the point where he can only see the top. 

He stands in the rain and watches as the car gets swept away from the crashing waves of the river, another devious smile spreading onto his face. 

And now… to wait.

* * *

After watching his car go underwater, he’d pulled up the hood of his windbreaker in order to hide his face and called an Uber to take him back to his house. 

Two days later, the police report is released, and, to his pleasant surprise, he makes the front page of his local newspaper. _Luke Hemmings’ Car Found at the Bottom of a River, Presumed Dead_ is the headline and Luke reads the article as he eats his breakfast at his house. The police had come to his house and searched for him yesterday, but he’d hidden in the attic to evade them. Now, he munches on an apple, scrolling through the article, loving the way they’d described him as an “aspiring artist”. He can’t help but be fueled by the attention—after feeling alone for so long, it feels good to be today’s hot topic, even if it doesn’t last. 

Then, an hour later, when he’s lounging on his couch watching the footage of the police pull his car out of the now calm river, his phone buzzes for the first time. It’s a text from Ashton, and Luke hurriedly unlocks his screen, his stomach flipping as he pulls it up. _Hey, where are you? You’re being presumed dead by the police, but you’re not, right? Call me asap!_

Luke sets his phone down on his chest, staring up at his ceiling, a grin on his face. 

Ten minutes later, there’s another buzz. 

It’s Ashton again. 

_Dude, answer me or I’m actually going to think you’re dead lol._

More texts start to flood in, but not from Ashton or the other boys. Some of his coworkers from the bar he works at are texting him, as well as some of the people he’d met when performing onstage that one time. He watches as his phone continues to vibrate, and for some reason, even though he’s still alone in an empty house, he’s never felt less alone. 

After a few minutes, Michael texts— _the fuck??? I just woke up to people saying you’re dead. Why the hell are they saying that?_

As Ashton calls his phone, Luke leans his head back and closes his eyes, soaking everything in. 

_Luke this isn’t funny. Call me back RIGHT NOW!_

_Why aren’t you answering Ash’s calls? How did your car end up in the fucking river??_

Luke semi registers the sound of a car pulling up outside his house, but he’s too entranced the incoming messages to fully register it. He absentmindedly turns off the TV. Ashton calls once again, and he stares at the phone until the call, once again, goes to voicemail. 

_Shit. Damnit Luke, answer!!!_

_Luke! Fuck fuck fuck!_

“Luke!”

Luke’s eyes snap up from his phone when he hears Calum call his name from outside the door. Calum knocks on the door loudly, practically banging his fists against the door before pushing on the doorbell a few times. Luke doesn’t sit up in fear of being seen, so he stays quiet, and eventually, the amount of knocking subsides.

“Luke, please answer the door,” Calum pleads, ringing the doorbell twice more. The desperation and panic in Calum’s voice are real, and for the first time, Luke actually starts to feel a twinge of guilt. “I need to know you’re alive because people are saying all sorts of things and apparently you’re not answering your phone and—just, answer the door.”

Silence. 

“Luke, please…” Calum’s voice breaks from behind the door, and Luke knows him well enough to know that he’s close to tears. “You have to answer the door because if you don’t that means you’re probably dead and you _can’t_ be dead. So open the door.”

Luke just stares up at the ceiling, listening to Calum’s words, trying to swallow back his guilt.

Ashton calls once more, and Luke puts the phone face down on the floor, letting it vibrate. 

“Luke…” Calum sobs. “C’mon. Please.”

No matter how much he wants to jump up and swing open the door, Luke stays put, wincing at each sob Calum lets out, each plea he cries out, and Luke knows he’s a terrible, horrible person who did a terrible, horrible thing. Eventually, Calum’s sobs quiet down, and Luke hears him walk away. He stands up just in time to see Calum drive away in his brand new expensive car. 

As the day goes on, Ashton’s calls become less and less frequent, and soon he stops calling altogether, and soon, Luke’s phone stops getting texts. Suddenly, just like before, he’s sitting in silence in his dark, empty house, and despite all the messages from earlier and all the crying emojis, even after _Calum crying at his doorstep,_ it still doesn’t feel like enough, and Luke hates himself for not being satisfied. After all, what more could he want?

* * *

The funeral is three days later, so five days after Luke drove his car into the river. For the first time in weeks, the clouds are gone and the sun finally makes its reappearance. It’s been a long three days, because, after the initial outcry, Luke’s phone has been basically silent, besides random Candy Crush notifications.

He does, however, notice a lack of activity on both Michael and Calum’s social media accounts, and Luke often passes the time by imagining what they’re doing at that moment. Maybe they’re sitting in their houses crying themselves to sleep until their eyes are red and swollen, or maybe they’re not. Maybe they don’t actually care, and they’re just not posting to social media in order to look like they’re taking time to mourn. It’s impossible to know, and Luke finds himself going crazy from wondering. 

Luke doesn’t stop himself from going to the service. 

He doesn’t go for the whole thing, fearing someone will see and recognize him, so he decides to just show up at the cemetery. He puts his hood up in order to keep people from seeing his face and walks to the cemetery, doing his best to keep his head down and not make eye contact with anyone. When he gets to the part of the cemetery where his empty coffin will be buried, the first thing he notices is that there are a _lot_ of people there, all dressed in black and watching as the coffin gets lowered into the ground. 

As he discreetly hides behind the trees and other structures, he studies the sight in front of him. There’s a picture of him on an easel, surrounded by red roses, and so many people are crying. Just like that night on stage at the bar, he scans the area and is pleased to see all three of his friends standing in front of the dug grave, each of them holding a red rose in their hands. At least they showed up to his funeral—maybe that’s all he can ask of them. He looks around once more, and Calum’s wife and her kids don’t seem to be there—the same with all of Michael’s friends. It’s just them, and the other people Luke had known personally, but not as well. 

All three of them toss their roses onto the empty coffin, and with one last look, they walk away, allowing the people behind them to throw flowers into the grave as well. Luke can’t help but get closer to the whole thing, and as the people at the funeral cry and mourn for him, he smiles contently, enjoying the sight in front of him. It’s such a terrible, horrible thing he’s done, and he knows that, and he’s not too sure what he’ll do come tomorrow when the world thinks he’s dead but he’s actually alive. 

It’s so nice that people care, and it’s even nicer that they’re all crying and mourning over him. He glances over at his friends, who are now standing at the edge of the coffin-shaped hole, and Michael’s hand is resting on Calum’s shoulder as Calum begins to cry. Luke doesn’t miss Michael wipe a few tears from his own eyes, and Ashton is stone-faced, staring at the coffin down in the ground. Luke wonders what he’s thinking about—what he would pay right about now to be a mind reader. 

As he stands there watching, he soaks up the attention, the happy feeling it brings him that at least all these people care about him in death, no matter what they thought about him in life. And he knows that when tomorrow rolls around, this feeling will go away, and he’ll be sitting in his empty dark house once again as he craves the attention, drinking his sorrows away while his friends go back to the lives they’ve been leading. 

But he chooses not to think about that as he watches the dirt get poured into the grave, submerging the empty coffin until there’s nothing left to look at except a damp patch of soil in front of a headstone that reads _Luke Robert Hemmings / 1996 - 2019._


	2. Never Enough and No Satisfaction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have nothing to do during quarantine, so I decided, what the hell, why not expand this story a chapter or two. 
> 
> Hope you like it!

Ashton’s work is his life. 

There’s something about what he does, which is plastic surgery, that intrigues him. It’s so easy for people in this day and age to look _exactly_ what they want to look like, and it prides him that he’s able to make those dreams come true. At the end of the day, he finds joy in bringing others happiness and security. 

It’s the end of the day, and he’s just gotten done with giving a client lip and face injections when his secretary buzzes in from the lobby.

“Doctor, there’s another client here. Shall I send them in?”

Ashton frowns, glancing at his schedule on his computer because he swears he doesn’t have any other appointments for the rest of the day, and sure enough, he’s right—the previous client should have been his final client for the day. However, a quick look at the watch on his wrist tells him that it’s not that late, only nine pm, and he decides that it can’t hurt to see one last person. Besides, if the person is walking in without an appointment, they’re probably just here for a quote and consultation. 

“Yeah, go ahead,” Ashton tells his secretary before getting to work on tidying up his workspace. He goes ahead and turns all the lights on so that he can see while he’s cleaning. He begins to put things away into cabinets and drawers, taking care to put every single thing in its correct place, because there’s nothing he hates more than a messy operating room. 

Ashton hears a knock, even though the door is wide open, and he turns around to see Luke standing in the door frame, his arm halfway in the air after knocking on the drywall next to the door. Knocking even when the door is open is such a Luke thing to do, and maybe if it wasn’t such a surprise to see him here, Ashton would chuckle at the sight. Instead, his eyebrows just raise up, confused as to why exactly Luke is standing awkwardly before him. Unless… Ashton glances at his operating chair on the other side of the room before looking back at Luke.

“Luke…?” Ashton frowns, “Listen, I don’t think your face needs any work done—your natural features look great the way they are.”

“What? Oh, I’m not here for… that,” Luke scrambles to clear up after he seems to realize what Ashton means, and Ashton’s relieved, though he still doesn’t understand why he’s here in the first place. Luke doesn’t say anything else, he just continues to stand in the doorway shifting his weight from foot to foot—something Luke does when he’s feeling awkward or nervous. Ashton’s not sure when the air between them became so tight, and he’s also not sure when the last time he even saw Luke was, and he hates that. 

But even though he hates it, he knows deep down he’s not strong enough to try and fix it.

“So, um, are you just here to say hello?” Ashton asks, giving Luke something like a grin as he’s setting his now clean needles down onto a towel so they can dry, and really, he doesn’t mind the company every once in a while, especially if it’s from a close friend such as Luke. 

“Yeah, I am,” Luke nods, but the way he’s biting his bottom lip gives Ashton the feeling there’s more the blond wants to say besides a simple hello. “I haven’t heard from you in a while—you never answered any of my texts or calls. I was starting to wonder if you were dead.”

“Oh, sorry about that,” Ashton sheepishly says. Honestly, he doesn’t even know where his phone is right now. Things tend to get misplaced when he’s working. 

“I know you’re busy,” Luke waves off the apology before finally stepping into the room. He gazes around for a moment, and Ashton realizes that this is probably the first time Luke has seen his operating room. There’s a lot to look at, so Ashton starts to get back to work cleaning the room, taking his white coat and hanging it up on his coat rack before he gets ready to wipe down the chair. 

After the silence goes on for a bit longer than Ashton’s comfortable with, he decides to try and make conversation. 

“So, what have you been up to?” Ashton asks his friend as he begins to switch off all of his equipment. “You been staying out of trouble?”

“I do my best,” Luke smiles softly, and Ashton doesn’t doubt him. Though Luke is known for getting himself into awkward situations, he’s not usually the type to do things irrationally. Besides, Ashton thinks that Michael is probably the one getting himself into the most trouble, what with those new friends he’s been hanging out around lately. They seem like a wild crowd to say the least. 

“Good,” Ashton says, putting each needle he’d used today back into the drawer where they belong. Each needle has its own place, it’s own home to go to at the end of the day. 

“I’ve actually been playing a lot lately,” Luke pipes up after a moment. Ashton glances back at him to show that he’s listening, and Luke continues. “I have some songs written, and I got a gig at the local bar this Saturday to play them.”

“That’s amazing, Luke,” praises Ashton, and he loves the way Luke is beaming because as long as he’s known him, Luke’s dream has always been to write and perform music. Really, all of them had dreamed about doing that, but as life tracked on, Ashton, Calum, and Michael all got tired of trying to make it happen. He’s proud, and truthfully a bit jealous, that Luke is able to do something that makes him genuinely happy. 

However, when Ashton turns around, the pure joy has faltered on Luke, and again he’s fidgeting nervously. 

“I know you have a busy schedule but… I would love it if you were able to come and watch,” Luke’s blue eyes are shining with both hope and fear, and Ashton doesn’t know what to say at first. 

“Uh, will Mike… or Cal be there?” Ashton tries to keep his tone and posture cool and straight, but he gets the feeling that Luke can probably see through it. 

“I asked them, so hopefully,” Luke answers, but despite his words, he seems unsure, as if he knows that the others will both find a reason not to be there, and Ashton wonders when it stopped being a given that their friendship group would always be there for each other. Ashton sighs and looks at the computer sitting on his desk, finding the schedule for Saturday. He’s immediately met with two appointments for lip injections on that day, but when he glances up at Luke, who has begun to radiate desperation, he makes a note to get those appointments rescheduled so his day can be clear. 

“I’ll do my very best, Luke,” Ashton earnestly promises, and he means it. “Which bar is it?”

“Here, I’ll write down the address,” Luke mumbles, searching the pockets of his black windbreaker for anything he can use to write with and coming up empty. Ashton grabs a sticky note pad and a pen off his desk and hands them both to Luke, and Luke jots down the name of the bar. “It’s not too far from here—you can’t miss it.”

Luke hands the pad and pen back, and Ashton makes a point of peeling off the sticky note and sticking it on the upper right corner of his computer screen. 

“Well, I’m just about finished up here,” Ashton announces, standing in the middle of the room and gesturing around him. “Did you drive here, or do you need a ride home?”

“I drove,” Luke says, and suddenly he seems nervous again, one of his hands resting in his windbreaker pocket, but Ashton doesn’t bring up the observation, thinking that he may just be imagining things. Instead, he grabs his coat and car keys before walking towards the door, gesturing for Luke to exit before he flips the lights off, shutting the door and locking it with his key. 

Ashton leads Luke out to the lobby—his secretary must have just left because her stuff is gone—the latter biting his lip just as he had been before, and it troubles Ashton that their friendship has drifted so much that Luke feels nervous around him. 

“Wait,” Luke says suddenly right before Ashton is about to open the door which leads to the parking lot, and Ashton turns around to see Luke halted in the middle of the room. “I have something for you.”

Ashton frowns confusedly as Luke takes the hand that had been in his windbreaker pocket out, and in it is a sealed white envelope.

“Luke, don’t you think fancy invitations are a little overboard for a gig at the bar?” Ashton questions Luke with a chuckle as the younger holds the invitation out towards Ashton. 

“It’s, uh, not for that,” Luke tells him, and Ashton curiously takes the invitation from Luke, and the first thing he notices on it is his name written in cursive. “It’s your invitation to Calum’s wedding.”

Ashton’s blood runs cold as he stares at the envelope, afraid to open it because that means it’s real. It means that Calum is really going to marry that random woman who he’s only known for a few months, the woman who convinced Calum to leave Ashton by promising riches and a place in this world. Ashton can see Luke out of the corner of his eye, the blond watching him closely as if he’s worried Ashton will do something impulsive. 

“So he’s really going through with it,” Ashton swallows thickly, his voice shakey despite his best efforts to keep it calm. 

“Yeah. The date is set for next month,” Luke nods, his tone not exactly joyful either, and Ashton looks up sharply at him. 

“You think this is absurd too, right?” it comes out more like a demand than a question, and Luke looks down at his feet. “I mean, there’s no way he’s marrying her because he loves her. Why is he—” he cuts himself off, stopping himself from going on a full tangent because he wants to hear what Luke has to say about it. 

“I don’t know why,” Luke says, his voice quiet, and Ashton has to listen hard in order to hear him. “I really haven’t seen him that often since he met her. But, if you want my outside opinion… I don’t think he’s in love with her. I think he’s in love with the status that she’s bringing with her. But hey, if he’s happy… then that’s our job as friends to respect the things that make him happy, and that includes her.”

They stand there in silence, because Luke doesn’t have anything else to say, and Ashton doesn’t know how to respond to Luke’s words. Eventually, Luke moves towards the door, and this time it’s Ashton following Luke as they exit out of the building and into the dark parking lot. The spring air is warm, and there are a few sprinkles of rain dripping down from the clouds above. Ashton suspects it’ll start raining soon. 

Luke stands to the side as Ashton locks the front doors, his hands shoved back into his windbreaker’s pockets. 

“I think you should come to the wedding,” Luke tells him. “I mean, you guys always said you were friends first, and friends go to each other’s weddings.”

“Yeah, well what did I know?” Ashton mutters, pulling on the door to make sure they’re successfully locked. “Friends don’t ditch each other for _status._ ”

“Yeah. I get it,” Luke says, and afterward he sighs, obviously worn out from the conversation. “Well, I hope to see you Saturday. Until then, take care, Ash.”

Luke turns around and starts the walk to his car. Luke’s car is a small black Honda Civic, and it’s so different from both Ashton or Calum’s fancy, expensive cars, or Michael’s scratched and dented car which can hold many—too many—passengers, and Ashton wonders if that says anything about who Luke is as a person. Ashton, Calum, and Michael’s cars are all brand new, bought in the last six months. Luke’s had that same Honda Civic since the beginning of time. 

Ashton looks back down at the invitation. There’s no address in the corner, just his first and last name. 

“Luke,” Ashton calls, raising his head back up, and Luke stops in his tracks, turning around. “Why didn’t Calum just send this to my house?”

“He doesn’t know your new address, so he gave it to me.”

“But you know my new address. Why didn’t you just drop it off there instead of coming here?”

Ashton regrets the question the moment he says it. It’s been almost a month since Ashton’s spoken to Luke, or any of the other boys for that matter, and he’s grateful Luke came to him in person, but the damage is already done. Luke’s face darkens with hurt, and without saying a word he turns around and continues walking to his car, pulling up the hood to his black windbreaker so his face is completely out of view. Ashton watches as Luke gets into his car and drives away, and he knows he should call and apologize for his words, but he looks down at the invitation and soon his mind is clouded with pain and heartbreak. 

The hurt eventually becomes too much, and Ashton pours himself into his work more than ever, with the week going by in a blur, and it’s not until next Monday morning when he notices the sticky note on the corner of his computer screen and realizes he completely missed Luke’s gig.

Only then does he remember to text Luke a quick apology, but somehow, even despite the thumbs-up emoji Luke sends back, it just doesn’t seem to be enough. 

* * *

Calum stands in front of the full-sized mirror in his dressing room, studying himself in the mirror. He’s in his tux, the most expensive one he could find, and it’s tailored just right. Today is his wedding day, the day he’ll one day look back on as the happiest day of his life, but he’s more nervous than anything. Somehow, a smile won’t come naturally—he’s having to force it, and the corners of his mouth are already tired from how much he’s been holding it up. 

There’s a knock at the door. Calum tells whoever it is to come in, not allowing the smile on his face to fall, and the door opens revealing Luke, who is dressed in his suit and tie. Unlike Calum, Luke has a soft, natural smile on his face, and for a brief second Calum wonders why Luke looks happier than Calum feels, but he ends up attributing it to nerves. 

“Hey, Cal,” Luke says as he closes the door so that it’s just the two of them in the room. “I think it’s close to time. You about ready?”

“Yeah,” Calum nods enthusiastically, perhaps too enthusiastically, and he hopes to God Luke can’t see through his smile, because then he would know that Calum’s not feeling as happy as he should be, even though Calum knows he _is_ happy—he’s just not feeling happy at this very moment. “Yeah, I’m ready. I’ve never been more ready in my whole life.”

Luke raises an eyebrow, leaning against the wall as he watches Calum smile at himself in the mirror. 

“For someone who has never been more ready, you look pretty… not ready. Are you okay?”

“Luke, why would I not be okay? It’s the happiest day of my life—I’ve never been better,” Calum assures his friend, glancing at him through the reflection of the mirror. 

“Cal,” Luke says, his tone knowing, and suddenly, it’s ten times harder for Calum to keep smiling and he lets go of it, his lips falling into a straight line bordering on a frown. 

“I’m just a little nervous,” Calum admits, turning away from the mirror so that he can pace the room. “Is that bad?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s normal for people to get nervous before they get married,” Luke says, moving over to the mirror so he can adjust his hair with his fingers. “I mean, it’s a huge commitment you’re making, but as long as you’re happy with that commitment, it’s all going to be fine.”

Calum nods and stops pacing. 

“I am happy with the commitment,” Calum tells Luke, “so it’s fine. I’ll feel differently once I see her, I think.”

“I wish you had let us give you a bachelor party,” Luke steps away from the mirror, seeming satisfied with the way his hair looks. “It would’ve been sick—if there’s one thing Mikey and I are good at, it’s throwing dope parties.”

“Uh Luke, Michael’s probably the only one who knows how to throw dope parties,” Calum corrects, and half a smile spreads onto his face when Luke pouts. “You’re great at decorations, though. That’s why our Christmas party is always at your house.”

“Well anyway, I think you would’ve had a good time,” Luke says, a faint tint of pink on his cheeks as he goes back to the topic at hand. 

“I do too,” Calum admits. “But my fiancee didn’t want me having one. She said it’s one of the bad traditions society has, and we shouldn’t take part in it. Which I agree with.”

Yes, of course, he agrees with his soon to be wife. It’s a tacky tradition, something that should be left behind for good. Besides, nothing good could’ve come out of it—these days Michael’s parties seem to be crazier and crazier. Who knows what kind of trouble he could have found himself in?

“Didn’t she have a bachelorette party in Vegas?” Luke frowns, and he’s right, she did, and Calum doesn’t know how to defend it. “Don’t you think that’s hypocritical of her?”

Now what sets Calum off, and he comes to the realization that he should have made a long time ago. 

“You don’t like her, do you?” Calum accuses him, narrowing his eyes with suspicion. “You don’t think I should marry her.”

“I never said anything like that, Calum,” Luke defends himself, putting his hands up in surrender, but Calum can see the disapproval in the blond’s face now that he’s looking for it, the disappointment that Calum is making the biggest mistake of his life. 

“Don’t lie to me, Luke,” Calum demands, his voice just above a whisper. 

“I hardly _know_ her,” Luke says, his eyes wide and earnest. “I’ve only met her like, twice, so the only person who can know if you should marry her is _you_ because you know her best.”

Calum just stands there, searching for words to say and unable to come up with any, but Luke continues on anyways. 

“I just want you to be happy, Cal,” Luke insists, and there’s no indication that he’s not being truthful. “Are you happy with her?”

Happy, Calum thinks, is complex. It’s so simple to say, yet there are so many factors that go into whether one is happy or not, and many of those factors are things that he’s about to have once he says his vows. He’ll have a beautiful wife and two amazing step-kids, and a big house in the middle of suburbia with a nice car parked in the driveway. It’s the new friends he’s going to make and the memories that will be forever captured with the flash of a camera. That right there is the dream—it’s what keeps him going. That right there is happiness. 

Sure, he was happy with Ashton. Calum has never felt more loved than when he was in Ashton’s arms like he was the center of Ashton’s universe. Life was absolutely amazing with him, but at the end of the day, Ashton put too much of himself into his work, and Calum knew he never would be able to have the suburban house or the kids or the pictures. 

She’ll make Calum happy.

Yes, he’s about to be truly and completely happy. 

“I will be,” Calum smiles, and this time the smile is genuine. 

Luke, however, doesn’t look exactly satisfied by his answer, but Calum finds that he doesn’t even care anymore. 

He’s going to be happy for the rest of his life. 

There’s a knock at the door and Michael sticks his head in, looking as presentable as Calum’s ever seen him, and it’s nice. This all is nice—the wedding, his soon to be wife, and his boys being here to share the moment. Well… except one of his boys, that he knows of.

“Hey, it’s close to go time,” Michael informs them, stepping into the room. “Ready to rock and roll?”

“Yeah, we’ll be out in a second,” Calum tells him, and Michael nods before leaving, closing the door behind him. He turns to Luke, who has a smile on his face now, but something about it seems forced. Yet, he shrugs it off because one question is burning up his heart. 

“Is Ash here?” Calum asks Luke. 

Luke flounders for a moment while trying to find the proper words to say, which tells Calum all he needs to know. 

“I brought him the invite,” Luke says. “But I guess it was just too much for him, ‘cause I haven’t heard from him since then. Sorry, Cal.”

“It’s alright,” Calum nods, and even though his heart feels like it’s sinking he tells himself he doesn’t care, that he’s moved on, and if Ashton can’t accept that then that’s not his problem. With that, he stands up and goes towards the door, but when his hand is resting on the door handle he pauses, looking back over at Luke. “Hey, by the way, I don’t think I ever said sorry for not making it to your gig at the bar.”

Luke looks surprised at that, and maybe it’s not the right time for Calum to bring it up, but he just wants to make all things right before he steps out of the door and his life changes forever. 

“Hey man, your priorities have changed,” Luke says softly, no inkling of anger or hatred in his eyes. “You’ve got to do what’s best for your marriage.”

Calum nods, trying not to think of a confused Luke searching the crowd up on that stage, the rejection he must have been hit with once he realized Calum wasn’t there, the disappointment that was probably displayed on his face because his best friend failed to come through for him. 

Because that’s not what matters today. 

Calum opens the door and walks through it.

* * *

_Beep… beep… beep… beep…_

All Michael can focus on is the steady beeping of his heart monitor—it’s all he can focus on. He stares at the plain white wall in front of him as he listens to each beep, each one seeming to be louder than the last. The hospital room he’s in is small and empty, void of both things to look at and people to talk to, so he just sits there, counting the beeps, but not registering what number he’s at. 

Maybe he could write a song with the heart monitor being the beat.

Yeah, that would be pretty cool.

He’s been in this hospital bed for about four hours, and he knows he should be asleep given that it’s five in the morning and he hasn’t slept a wink, but Michael doesn’t feel much like sleeping. Every thirty minutes or so, a nurse will come to check up on him, a bit worried because he’s still awake, but Michael doesn’t want the sedatives. He doesn’t want to feel less alive than he already does. 

_Beep… beep… beep… beep…_

In between beeps, Michael registers the sound of footsteps running down the hall outside his hospital room, but he pays it no mind, figuring that it doesn’t concern him. The door to his room opens, which Michael thinks is weird because a nurse just came in ten minutes ago to check on him, and the next check-up shouldn’t be for another twenty minutes. Michael tears his gaze away from the wall and is rather shocked to see a familiar face, and perhaps the most comforting face these days, standing in the doorway to his hospital room.

Luke looks nothing less than disheveled like he’d gotten dressed quickly without paying attention to what he was putting on, evident in the orange shirt that just doesn’t go with those green sweatpants, unmatching sneakers, and the fact that Michael is sure the sweatpants are on backward. He’s wearing a gray hoodie and his hair is messy and unbrushed, but what’s most unsettling about Luke’s appearance is the fearful look in his wide eyes, and it borders on wild as those eyes scan Michael up and down. If Michael was thinking more clearly and wasn’t sleep deprived, maybe he would think something of Luke’s unnatural look, but he doesn’t bother. 

“Michael,” Luke breathes as he looks upon Michael in the bed. “Holy shit.”

Michael doesn’t say anything—he just goes back to staring at the wall. 

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here earlier—the hospital called me all throughout the night, but I’m a heavy sleeper and didn’t wake up until twenty minutes ago,” Luke continues on, and Michael frowns. “Man, I must have ran, like, eight red lights on the—”

“Wait, why did the hospital call _you_?” Michael asks, and it’s not his intention to be rude, but he has no energy to apologize. 

“Um, I’m your emergency contact, remember?” Luke reminds him slowly, and Michael does remember when he put Luke’s name and number down for his emergency contact a few years ago because deep down there’s no one he trusts with his life other than Luke Hemmings. 

“Oh. Yeah,” is all Michael says. 

Luke moves into the room and lowers himself into the chair next to Michael’s bed. They sit in silence for a few minutes, but Michael wishes Luke would say something rather than continue to stare at him. It makes him uncomfortable to have someone watching him, even someone as close to his as Luke—maybe even more so than one of his party friends, because they never try to get down to the bottom of his soul like Luke and boys.

“Michael,” Luke starts, his voice low and serious, and suddenly Michael would prefer the staring. “Do you… remember what happened?”

Michael doesn’t answer right away, and Luke seems content to wait. 

“No,” Michael admits, looking down at his hands which are resting atop the blanket. 

“You were in a car accident, Mike,” Luke tells him, his words slow, and Michael appreciates that. “You were going too fast and crashed into a street lamp. The car flipped over.”

Michael swallows, his eyes still trained on his hands, and suddenly, bits and pieces of his memory are returning, and he can remember driving so fast that his vision was blurred—or maybe that was the drugs in his system—and he remembers the loud voices and laughter as they sped down the road, and then… nothing.

“Was anyone else…?” Michael’s voice is so quiet that it’s almost a whisper, and he turns his head to look at Luke, hoping that he’ll pick up on what he’s trying to ask because he doesn’t want to say the words himself. 

“The doctor said there were a few scratches here and there, but everyone’s okay for the most part,” Luke reports, and Michael nods, looking back down at the blanket he’s covered in. 

They sit in silence for a few more minutes, letting the quiet engulf them, and this time it’s not so uncomfortable because Luke is looking away from him. Michael glances at him, and there’s a slight frown on his face as his gaze tilted down towards the ground. Michael wonders what he’s thinking about.

“Luke—” Michael tries to start, but Luke cuts him off before he can say anything else. 

“I can’t even begin to explain to you how fucking terrified I was when I saw those missed calls,” Luke’s voice is shaky, and he won’t meet Michael’s eyes, and maybe that’s for the best. “I thought you were dead, and the worst part is… I wasn’t even surprised.”

Michael doesn’t know what to say to that, and because of his silence Luke continues on. 

“You’re drugged up all the time, staying out with those friends of yours and getting shitfaced every single night—”

“Look, Luke, I don’t need a lecture from you,” Michael growls, and maybe he’s only getting defensive because deep down he knows that Luke is right, but that doesn’t stop the annoyance he’s feeling. 

“Oh, you don’t?” Luke’s eyes flash with anger as he finally turns to face Michael, and Michael doesn’t think he’s ever seen Luke this upset before. “Because you seem to be doing _super_ well at the moment, so who am I to judge, right?”

“It’s my life, and I don’t need you treating me like you're my parent,” Michael argues back. “So maybe you should start being a good friend and mind your own fucking business.”

“I’m sorry, Mikey,” Luke says, “but I just can’t do that.” 

“Well until you can you should just fuck off,” Michael spits. 

Luke’s eyes go wide, and Michael is hit with regret for what he just said.

“I didn’t mean that,” Michael says quietly, looking away because he can’t stomach the pained expression on Luke’s face. 

“It’s okay,” Luke nods, but Michael doesn’t want him to think it’s okay because it’s certainly not okay. Michael is just an asshole who has developed a habit of pushing those close to him away. 

No matter how much he’s pushed, Luke still hasn’t left. 

And suddenly, he wants to tell Luke how he feels like he’s losing control over his life, and how he can’t seem to put a stop to his drug abuse and partying. He wants to tell Luke how he’s never felt less alone in his life, and how his new “friends” always leave once the sun comes up, but at the end of the day, he feels like he connects with them because they’re all fucking their lives up too. He wants to tell Luke how much he hates how far they’ve drifted, how he misses the days where life felt _real,_ when Luke, Ashton, and Calum were the people he’d go to at the end of the day, and he hates that it’s _Michael’s_ fault that he’s drifted away from them.

But he can’t—the words die on his tongue, and they don’t come back.

“You’re my best friend, Mike, even if I’m not yours,” Luke tells him, and Michael doesn’t think he deserves that. “There will never be a day I don’t care about you.”

But before Michael can tell him that the feeling is mutual, a nurse comes into the room announcing that Luke’s visiting time is up. 

“Get better soon,” Luke says to Michael, a small smile on his face, but it’s shadowed with worry and pain, and Michael thinks Luke is just too good for him. 

He then leaves, and Michael’s once again sitting in an empty room, but now instead of listening to beeps, he thinks about Luke’s smile, and how it’s the most genuine smile he’s received in a long time. 

* * *

Michael’s not even at his own house when he finds out about the news. 

He’s at one of his friends' house, having stayed the night after getting way too drunk to drive home. He’s been trying to avoid driving under the influence after his car wreck just a month ago. He’s down in the kitchen, trying to find his wallet so he can leave when someone else mentions that a car, specifically a black Honda Civic, was found in the river just the other night with the driver presumed dead, and Michael’s stomach drops because that’s what _Luke_ drives. 

Finally finding his wallet, he literally runs out of the house, and when he gets into his car he gets onto his phone and looks for today's headline, his heart wildly pounding in panic as he searches for the article. 

Michael goes completely numb when he sees the name Luke Hemmings in the headline.

He immediately texts Luke, feeling slightly ashamed at how far down he has to scroll in order to find Luke’s name in his text messages app, and when he doesn’t get a response in five minutes he texts Ashton next—maybe he knows what’s going on.

_He won’t answer me either,_ Ashton’s text back reads. _Calum’s going to his house to look for him. I’m hoping for the best, but…_

Michael feels more fogged up right now than he’s ever felt while doing drugs, his head is swimming and he feels nauseous. There’s no way Luke can be dead. He can’t be, because how would it be fair if Luke is dead, while Michael is still alive and living his shitty existence? 

Calum sends Michael a text thirty minutes later reporting that Luke’s not at his house. 

Michael shuts down completely.

* * *

Calum thinks it’s nothing short of being fucked up that the first time the boys have all been in the same room in a long time is Luke’s funeral.

It’s not even all of them, Calum thinks bleakly as he steps through the doors of the funeral home. Luke’s body is still somewhere at the bottom of the river, still unfound, meaning that they’re burying an empty casket. He spots Ashton at the front, near the casket, and Michael’s standing next to him. If this was any other occasion Calum wouldn’t be sure if he should approach them, given the tense air between them all, but this is Luke’s funeral and they should stick together, just like Luke would have wanted. 

So Calum picks up his pace, and once he reaches them he pulls Michael in for a hug, squeezing as tight as he can. Michael seems surprised at the sudden embrace at first but soon melts into it. After they end the hug, Calum hugs Ashton next, and though Ashton’s body is awkwardly fidgeting at the contact, he still returns the hug best he can. 

“How’ve you guys been?” Calum asks when the hugging sessions end, and it’s a shitty question, but it’s the only words Calum can think to say. 

“Shitty,” Michael answers, his voice hardly above a whisper as he looks at the ground, and Calum notices his eyes are bloodshot and swollen. 

“Yeah,” Calum nods, glancing at the casket just mere feet away from them. “Me too.”

Moments later, the funeral service begins, and it’s astounding to Calum how many people are here, all gathered to celebrate Luke’s life and mourn his death. 

Calum can’t really pay attention to what the person at the podium is saying, he can only stare at the casket which is covered in red roses. The only time he can focus is when Ashton gets up to say a few words. Despite Ashton’s usual natural ability to talk smoothly, he’s struggling up there to say the words he’s written down as tears threaten to fall from his eyes. 

“Luke… Luke was the best of us,” Ashton tells the crowd. 

Calum’s never agreed with anything more. 

* * *

For the first time in days, the sun is shining, and so they’re all wearing sunglasses to reflect the sun's glare. Ashton stands next to his boys, or what’s left of them at least, as he watches everyone toss flowers onto the casket that’s now lowered all the way into the ground. Calum, who’s standing on the other side of Michael, has now broken down into tears, and Michael puts a hand on his shoulder to comfort him, though Ashton can see a few tears falling from his eyes as well. 

As much as Ashton wants, he can’t cry. Maybe something inside him is broken, because he _wants_ to cry—he _needs_ to cry because he loved Luke so damn much. Luke was always the one keeping them all together with a bright smile on his face—he was so good at cheering them up, and there’s nothing Ashton wouldn’t do in order to have Luke here to chase their sadness away. 

Eventually, the crowd begins to dissipate, until it’s just the three of them, save for a few remaining people scattered around the cemetery. 

“It doesn’t feel real,” Michael says suddenly, his voice breaking. “I just keep imagining him popping up and yelling, “I’m not dead, I’m not dead you idiots”, and then he would laugh for ages about us crying and being sad over someone who’s not even dead.”

“Yeah, he probably wouldn’t ever let us forget it, either,” Calum giggles through his tears. 

And maybe it’s just Ashton’s longing for that scenario to happen, but as he stares ahead into the cemetery, he notices a figure walking away from them, wearing a black windbreaker with the hood up, and Ashton can’t help but think about how much the figure looks like Luke, and for a moment, Ashton feels a glimmer of hope that it could _actually_ be Luke.

But the universe is rarely that kind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There should be a third chapter coming soon. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, as always I love feedback :)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! I'm not opposed to a second part, but I can't promise anything. Let me know what you think!


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